Faraway
by allons-ysuperwholocktrek6899
Summary: Jean has a little talk with Marco. (future fic, bucketfuls of tears, spoiler-free. written for a friend for levimas.)


Faraway by allons-ysuperwholocktrek6899

Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan

Implied Jean/Marco &amp; Eren/Levi (and maybe even Armin/Annie if you look hard enough)

**A/N: 1. There is nothing too spoilery (all of the deaths listed I made up are based on what would hurt Jean the most [poor boy])**

**2\. i don't know why i thought it would be a good idea, but i wrote this for a best friend for levimas. have 1.3k of poorly edited angst **

**3\. for maximum teary effect, listen to this \- ** playlist?list=PLA2okhCyM2Apv2cWoJZlEze2buST6BFQw** (jeanmarco playlist by utsu) or this \- ** watch?v=oo-8qAnkFbo**(an absolutely beautiful piano cover of "Faraway" from Little Busters! by Animenz aka piano jesus from above), both of which I listened to like crazy while writing this. just a suggestion.**

**4\. this is a long author's note**

**5\. happy holidays (including christmas, to those who celebrate it) and please enjoy!**

* * *

Jean smiles, shaking his head gently and watching contentedly as the sun rises above the valley below them. "Can you believe it, Marco? We did it. They're gone. All of them."

The long grasses around them sway gently in the wind, the breeze leaving a trail of refreshment and comfort in its wake. Jean pulls a strand ashy brown hair out of his face, sighing deeply and leaning further back into the slightly damp ground. "I only wish they were here to see it with us."

He lulls himself into a false sense of security, sitting on this picturesque hilltop with Marco in the serene quiet of the aftermath. He pretends for a little bit, pretends that everything he knows hasn't been torn apart in the past… how long has it been again?

Jean closes his eyes for a second, then regrets it immediately afterward. A mess of shattered blades, bloodstains, torn 3DMG straps, and empty eyes fall into his line of vision, the faces of the passed haunting him. These years have built up everything Jean knows and torn it back down. How many have died? he wonders. How many people woke up one morning and didn't wake up the next? How many never woke up at all?

Amber eyes fall on a pair of tanned hands, scarred from blade mishaps and one too many close calls.

"They're gone." Jean says out loud. "Mikasa. Reiner. Bertholdt." The syllables start tumbling out out of his mouth until they are a constant stream of bitterness and death he can't find it in him to control. "Annie. Sasha. Connie. Erwin. Nile. Marlo. Even _Shadis_. Marco, they're all gone. _Jaeger_ is gone."

He can see the dark, sorrowful expression on his freckled companion's face even with his eyes closed. "And I'm still here."

_So am I_, comes the unsaid reply. Jean is grateful to still have Marco, even with the heavy losses they have sustained. They knew that victory would come at a heavy price, of course, but the weight of the deaths do not seem to register until Jean is sobbing on the ground again, hands running shakily through two-toned hair.

Neither of them speak, Jean finally letting out every single bit of tension he has held since… well, as long as he can remember. Mikasa's final, set expression full of determination. The delicate sound of a neck snapping that followed directly afterwards. Reiner and Bertholdts' twin looks of happiness, glad to finally have been rid of their burdens of betrayals after betrayals. Annie's closed eyes and tiny smile. Those three had finally found peace in their final days, Jean thinks. Then he is overwhelmed by more - Sasha and Connie doing their ridiculous fist bump routine on that last day. Erwin's resolute salute, even as he sacrificed himself for them all. He could go on and on, fill enough pages with writing that Armin could swim through an ocean of them all.

The broken looks of the survivors. He knows it's "what they would have wanted" and all, but there is no way he will ever forget the absolutely heartbroken expression on Levi's face when they brought back nothing of Eren but a key on a string and a bundle of clothes. Nothing remains of the passionate, green-eyed boy Jean remembers furiously arguing with but a cold bed for Corporal Levi and too many painful memories. It makes Jean feel empty in the worst way.

They are all far away now. Too far away for any of them, not even Levi in his swiftest moments of glory, to fly away and find. He wants to throw away his 3DMG and scream into the clouds. What use are the dozens of leather straps and tanks if they cannot grapple back to what matters most?

A singular bird's achingly sweet, melancholy call draws Jean out of his disastrous train of thought. The sun has begun to come up (but what does it matter, he thinks, if the people he wants to see the most cannot be illuminated by it?)

One lonely ray of sun begins its journey across the valley. The tiny stream of brilliance inches up from Jean's toes to the tips of his hair until it is joined by others, dappling spots of light everywhere until his whole being is illuminated.

The beauty of the day hits Jean in the face like a physical being, the great blue _openness_ of the sky staring at him and striking just where it needs to. The sun has climbed its way up halfway to the sky, he notices dazedly.

Unnoticed up until now, Armin quietly steps forward and sits down until he is sitting side-by-side with Jean, contemplating the landscape around them.

They sit together in mellow silence for a few moments. The quiet with Armin does not feel suffocating or troublesome like that of the quiet with some of the others. Jean thinks Marco approves, and, after shooting the blonde boy a sideways glance, thinks Armin knows as well.

"Another talk with Marco?" Armin asks. Jean nods, and the two of them watch the meadow below them come to life as the day starts up. It must be incredibly hard for Armin, Jean knows, having lost everyone important to him as well - both of his best friends, his mentor and idol in the field of strategy, and Annie, whom he knows was not a friend but maybe a little more than that.

Armin doesn't say anything this time and simply pulls out a book from underneath his arm, which Jean really should have seen coming. It's a thick, dark blue volume with massive illustrations, and it opens on its own to a worn page with a big spread of an endless sky and sea. Along with it is a messily sketched out map of the area, with meticulous calculations on the side. A thin black line stretches from the little valley where they are now all the way to an open space filled with wavy lines. Jean doesn't need a label or any words to know where they are going.

Heavier feet trample the grass behind where they are sitting, and Jean doesn't expect to see Corporal Levi - just Levi now, he corrects himself - wipe off some of the dew that has collected on his boots and stand behind them. "Oi, Arlert, Kirstein. We're about to leave." Levi moves a little closer, almost tentatively, and Jean can feel the awkwardness in the air like a tangible thing. Armin's eyes dart to the ground on which Levi is stepping, and, following his line of sight, Jean can see Levi is being careful not to stand on any flowers.

"Alright. Jean and I were just having a little chat with Marco - we're ready to head off now." Armin closes the book carefully, tucking away the map and tying his hair back into a stubby little ponytail.

Levi nods somewhat stiffly and starts striding back to where Jean can now see where there are a group of horses being kept, and Hange is waving excitedly. Right before he leaves the two of them, though, he turns around and takes a deep breath. "None of them deserved this."

Armin gives an odd little half-smile, close enough to Annie's that it unsettles Jean a little. "No one did."

With that, he helps Jean up, and gives another larger smile toward the little gray slab that has been keeping them company the whole time. "Goodbye, Marco."

Jean doesn't say anything, only brushes his fingers over the top of the cold stone and closes his eyes.

"Goodbye."

Marco laughs gently, his eyes crinkling up as he beams at the three of them. "Take care, you three."

And Jean doesn't let, won't let one last tear fall silently and hit the fragrant, grassy ground surrounding Marco's grave.

The odd little trio walks away wordlessly. There is no need for words; in the moment, they are all too far away.


End file.
